


The Wave at Morning

by emungere



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Dom/sub, Hair Brushing, M/M, Masturbation, Relationship Negotiation, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-14
Updated: 2016-07-05
Packaged: 2018-06-02 07:05:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 8,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6556588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emungere/pseuds/emungere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of bits and pieces, previously posted with my tumblr ficlets as "post-fall sub will" which is a pretty accurate description. It got a little long, so now it's here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title from 'Exiled' by Edna St. Vincent Millay: http://www.bartleby.com/273/101.html

The problem, Hannibal thought, was that Will was used to having an occupation. Hannibal did all of the cooking and most of the cleaning. It was all he'd been able to manage while his wound healed, and he hadn't wanted to share, but it had left Will idle. 

Idly sweeping sand off the tiled veranda three times a day. Idly lying on the sofa, bouncing a tennis ball off the wall to the ceiling and back into his hand. Idly wandering into Hannibal's kitchen to pick a fight, as he was doing now. 

"You said snapper. I brought you what you wanted." 

"I said snapper if it looked fresh," Hannibal said. 

"It's fine. There's nothing wrong with it." 

"It won't go to waste. I told you I would find something to do with it." 

"Which implies you can't do what you were going to do because I got it wrong." 

"I'm not going to make ceviche out of this."

"You could've said that was what you wanted it for." 

Hannibal looked back at Will. He was slumped against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, one hand raised to his face where his thumb rubbed at the scar on his cheek. 

"Why don't you go for a run before dinner?" Hannibal said. 

Will's mouth twisted into a hard, unhappy shape and then he sighed. "Yeah, fine. I'll get out of your hair. Sorry." He pushed off the wall and turned to go.

Something in the phrasing of that caught at Hannibal like a hook. It implied more than the need for occupation; it implied a desire for his attention, and that he could certainly provide. "Will."

"What?" 

"Where will you run?"

"I don't know. Why?"

"Do you remember the point that we walked to last week?"

"With the cliffs and those purple flowers? Yeah." 

"Take your run there, if you would. Bring me one of the black stones we saw. You know the ones?" 

"Yeah," Will said, hesitant. "What do you want it for?" 

"Isn't it enough that I want it? You'd better hurry. You only have half an hour until dinner." 

Will watched him for a few seconds, something going on behind his eyes, though Hannibal couldn't guess what. He walked out of the kitchen. A minute later, Hannibal heard him exit through the sliding glass door that led onto the beach. 

When he returned, Hannibal was nearly done with dinner, a Portuguese fish stew to be served over thick slices of toast. Will kicked off his shoes at the door and walked in, looser, more relaxed, shirt off and draped around his neck where he used it to blot up the sweat that rolled down from his hairline. The scent of him overwhelmed the fish and not in an entirely unpleasant way. 

He took a smooth, round, black pebble from his pocket and put it in Hannibal's hand. "Okay?" 

"That will do nicely. Thank you." 

Will's face lightened, perpetual line between his eyes easing. He gave Hannibal a nod and turned away. "Going to shower. Back in ten." 

Hannibal cut the bread for the toast and then stood holding the stone in the palm of his hand. He had a great deal to consider. 

*

Hannibal sent him on other runs over the course of the next week, or to the market with far more specific instructions than he'd given previously. He gave Will the ironing to work on over the weekend and asked him set the table for each meal. Will watched him for a few seconds after every request, but he never said no. 

His looks seemed to imply that he knew what Hannibal was doing. Since Hannibal wasn't entirely sure what he was doing himself, that seemed unlikely, but not impossible. This was Will, after all. 

A few pieces snapped together when Will walked out of the bathroom dressed only in a towel, searching for a specific shirt. Hannibal looked up from his tablet. Will's hair was damp and curling. He was usually clean-shaven now, thanks to the scar on his cheek that distorted the hair growth there in a way he seemed to dislike. 

Hannibal's gaze lingered there, as it always did, and on the scar on his shoulder, on the one that cut across his stomach. But now he gave equal weight to the drop of water that rolled down the center of Will's chest. It picked up other stray drops as it went, finally pooling together in a little stream that slid sideways over the faint curve of his stomach, ran along the dip of muscle next to his hip, and was soaked up by the drooping towel.

"Hannibal? The one with the blue stripes?" 

"You don't need it," Hannibal said. 

"I don't, huh?" 

Hannibal raised his eyes finally. Will was giving him the same look, the one that meant he wouldn't say no. "Not in the house," Hannibal told him. He nodded to the towel. "You don't need that either." 

Will watched him, watched his mouth, didn't quite meet his eyes. And then he let the towel drop to the floor and walked away. He walked out into the courtyard that sat at the center of the house, stretched out perfectly naked on a lounge chair, and picked up his book. 

Hannibal got nothing else done that afternoon. He couldn't take his eyes off him.


	2. Chapter 2

Will was nearly always naked in the house now. Sometimes, he crossed their deserted patch of beach to the ocean and took his morning swim without dressing as well. Or, when the surf rose up in rough peaks and the wind sent stinging particles of sand into the air, he would use the small pool in the courtyard.

This was one of those mornings. Hannibal was stretched out on a lounge chair, still in his pajamas, with a cup of coffee. Outside their protected citadel, the wind had come up strongly in the night. It whistled over the top of the courtyard like air blown over the top of the bottle, but barely stirred the leaves of the plants down below.

Will finished his laps and emerged, shining, into the sun. He slicked his wet hair back from his face and stretched up towards the sky.

"Come here," Hannibal said. He hadn't planned to say it. Will always seemed to pull more from him than he meant to give.

Will approached and stood in front of him, waiting. He shifted his weight, contrapposto and still as a statue. The sun shone down on him, on the water that beaded like constellations across his skin, on the scars that Hannibal had given him, on the curve of his stomach that Hannibal had created with his cooking over the past few months, on his clear eyes. Hannibal watched him, and Will watched Hannibal. 

For some time, maybe as long as a minute, Will's gaze stayed steady. He met Hannibal's eyes with the same equanimity as when Hannibal asked him to bring home fish from the market and the same apparent willingness to obey. But, as the silence stretched between them, Will looked down at the pool of water gathering near his feet. His hand slid along one wet thigh, and his cock began to thicken.

"Turn around," Hannibal said. "Let me see all of you."

Will turned slowly. Barely moving his feet. Lifting his arms up over his head so that the stretch highlighted his musculature. Showing off. For Hannibal.

Hannibal sat up on the lounge chair. He could feel his heart in his chest and the blood in his veins. Will had his head half turned, not quite looking back over his shoulder, but enough to let Hannibal see the light flush on his cheeks. Hannibal's own cock was growing stiff. When he laid a hand into the shallow curve at the small of his back, Will's breath hitched hard, twice.

This game between them had been growing towards something like this for weeks now. Hannibal had known that. He had not known and did not know where to go from here. He set one finger between Will's shoulder blades and drew it down the whole length of his spine, down lightly between his cheeks and along the inside of his right thigh all the way to his ankle.

Will's hands clenched into fists. Hannibal could see his muscles flex as he fought to stay still. Hannibal hadn't even needed to tell him to stay still. He could smell the arousal coming off of Will like the waves beating against the shore outside, so strong that they seemed to carry not just scent but sound as well, a low roar that was more likely Hannibal's blood.

He forced himself to sit back on the lounge chair and pick up his book again. "Very good," he said. "You may go and take your shower now."

Will stood for a second longer and then he bowed his head and walked away.

When he emerged from the shower, more flushed than he had gone in, Hannibal set his book aside for a second time. "Did you touch yourself?" he asked.

Will nodded.

"Ask me first next time."

Will's eyes widened. His teeth skimmed over his bottom lip, and his hand rubbed along his thigh again. "Just next time?"

"From now on," Hannibal said.


	3. Chapter 3

Sun glittered off the gray stones that paved their courtyard. Will lay by the edge of the pool, still wet from his swim and slowly baking dry. 

"We're going to the opera this weekend," Hannibal said. 

Will looked at him over the tops of his sunglasses and didn't say a word.

"I've bought a suit for you. It's on your bed. Go and try it on." 

Something in that got Will's attention. He turned onto his side, and his tongue flicked out to wet his lower lip. "Right now?" 

"Yes. Now." 

For a moment, Hannibal thought they might have found Will's sticking point. He didn't move. He slid his sunglasses back into place, hiding his eyes. "You didn't ask me what size I take," he said. 

"I didn't need to. I know your body well enough." 

Will's throat moved as he swallowed. He rolled to his feet and walked away, spine very straight, hands relaxed at his sides. Conscious of being watched. 

Hannibal waited, plagued by a rare case of nerves. What would he do if Will refused? He didn't know. He had never known. The situation between them was, as always, too delicate to gracefully weather mistakes. 

But the opera, or, at least, the suit that went with it, was not where Will drew his line in the sand. He was back ten minutes later, dressed in a three-piece navy blue suit with a dark gray shirt and a gray paisley tie. "Okay?" he said. 

His hands were not at rest now. They smoothed his trousers over his thighs, made for his pockets and were pulled back, touched his tie and then his throat. He looked at the far wall as he waited for Hannibal's verdict. 

Of course, he looked stunning, but Hannibal did not think this was the moment to mention it. He walked slowly around Will, who twisted to keep him in the corner of his eye until Hannibal straightened his shoulders with a light touch. 

"How does it feel?" 

"Strange," Will said. "I'm not used to wearing this much anymore." 

"It will do, I think. You may go and take it off now. Remember to hang it up, please. What are you wearing underneath?" 

"Nothing. You didn't leave anything out for me." 

"Very good," Hannibal said, letting approval seep into his voice at last and watching the way Will bowed his head for it. He gave into temptation and laid a hand on the back of his neck. A shiver passed through Will's body and into Hannibal's like the closing of an electrical circuit. 

*

Hannibal was waiting on the sofa when Will emerged from his room. He had changed into his suit for the opera, and he was walking stiffly in it, pushing still-damp curls back behind his ears. 

"Come here," Hannibal said. 

Will came to stand in front of him. He put his hands in his pockets and looked down at the floor. His mouth had a tension to it, and a stubborn, unhappy expression lurked behind his eyes.

"This won't do," Hannibal said. "Look at me." 

Will raised his head. "What won't do?"

"I expect more of you than your presence at my side tonight, Will." 

Will's mouth twisted. "You want me to be sociable."

"More than that. I want you to be charming." 

"So, be someone else?" 

Hannibal leaned against the cushions, arm along the back of the sofa, legs crossed. "Be the man who didn't protest when I sent him on a five mile run to fetch a pebble for me."

Will looked down at his shoes again, so new that they squeaked when he flexed them against the tile floor. 

Hannibal rose. He set his hands at Will's waist and held him in place when he would have stepped back. "Stand up straight, take your hands out of your pockets, and smile for me." 

Will took a little hitched breath and did as he was told.


	4. Chapter 4

The opera house had a vast gilded foyer, a sweeping staircase up to the second level, and a brighter set than Hannibal had generally seen in Baltimore. He and Will stood out, more somber and more buttoned up than most of the men, who tended toward linen and pale colors. He had expected it and did not object to the extra attention it brought them. 

They wove through the champagne crowd in the lounge before the show started, and Will got their drinks for them. He was more than civil to the people they met, but his smile had a stretched quality to it.

When they were thrust out into the throng at intermission, Will hung back in the hall. Hannibal took his arm. "I know this isn't easy for you, Will. It's not intended to be." 

"Are you just setting me up to fail?" He clenched his jaw shut on the last word. His back was still straight, and he schooled his face into a smile as a man they'd met approached. 

"Never. I have the greatest faith in you." 

"Charles," Will said to their new acquaintance. "What did you think of the first half?" 

Hannibal watched him for the duration of the intermission. He could look nowhere else, and he frequently let down his own end of the conversation. Will sparkled with brittle charm and an odd warmth that grew more solid as the time passed and he sank more fully into the part he was playing. It was a part that Hannibal recognized just as the lights dimmed to mark the end of intermission. 

He recognized himself, but not the persona that he had worn like another skin at operas and art openings and dinner parties. Will had seldom seen him like that. This was the the version of himself he had shown to Will when they first knew each other: coaxing, warm, a little strange, a few rough edges to draw him in. It worked as well on their companions as it had on Will. Everyone wanted to be near him. 

A young couple in particular floated near him, hands on each other, eyes on Will, until the man maneuvered himself into a position to clap Will on the shoulder after some joke. He left his hand there. Will looked to Hannibal, question clear. Did he have to endure this too? 

Hannibal put an arm around his waist and drew him close. Will leaned into the touch, body gone soft in relief. 

Back in their box, Hannibal laid a hand on Will's thigh to still the jitter of his foot. "It's almost over now. You're doing very well." 

"Can we leave when it's over?" Will said. His voice was quiet, a little rough. "I don't want to talk to them again." 

"Yes, we'll leave. And you will have a reward when we get home. I know how difficult this has been for you." 

Will turned to stare at him. "A reward?" 

"You deserve it, Will. You've been very good for me. Think about what you would like." 

*

When they got home, Hannibal sent Will into his room to change. To strip. Will came back naked and stretched his arms up over his head with a sigh. 

"Better?" Hannibal asked. 

"So much better." 

"Have you thought about what you would like?" Hannibal asked.

Will looked out into the dark toward the rushing waves. He might ask to avoid the opera from now on. He might ask to fuck Hannibal over the sofa. He might ask if they could stop this altogether and return to their previous poorly-balanced status quo. 

Will shifted, in the mood of the room shifted with him. His hands twisted together and then he rubbed them deliberately down his thighs. "Will you brush my hair?"

Hannibal was a second late in answering. "Yes, of course. Go and fetch the brush from my room."

Will did, and Hannibal took that time to compose himself. He needed it. Of all the responses he had contemplated, that fell nowhere among them, neither in letter nor in spirit.

Will returned, and Hannibal gestured to the floor at his feet. Will sat down, cross-legged. Hannibal threaded his fingers through the hair on the left side of Will's head and started brushing the other. He dragged the brush slowly from front to back, sending the bristles deep to rub against his scalp.

The air between them was silent except for their breath and the omnipresent sigh of the waves outside. Will shifted his weight occasionally, rested a hand on the floor and once, accidentally, on Hannibal's shoe. He removed it quickly and sat straight and still until Hannibal had stroked the brush through his hair again and again, other hand curved over the back of his neck. Each repetition seemed to unwind him a little more.

"What made you ask for this?" Hannibal said. "If you don't mind discussing it."

"I don't mind. You might."

"I will take the risk."

"It was Molly. I used to do this for her," Will said. "She'd ask me maybe once or twice a week." He was silent for a few breaths, a few strokes of the brush. "I just thought -- it seemed like it would feel nice."

Hannibal was careful not to stop, not to pause, not to comment in any physical way on that piece of information. "But you did not ask her to do the same for you."

Will shook his head and let it hang down. "I don't think I ever thought about it."

"And does it feel good?"

"Yeah," Will said softly. "It feels good."


	5. Chapter 5

Hannibal had breakfast by the pool so he could watch Will swim. He ate figs and green melon and a soft local goat cheese spread on toast. Will cut through the water, speeding up for his last lap. He grasped the ladder and pulled himself out with barely a pause to stand, dripping, and stretch up toward the sky. 

He walked over to Hannibal. "Is any of that for me?" 

"If you like." Hannibal held out a fig to him. Will reached for it, and Hannibal shook his head. "Open your mouth." 

Will gave him an uncertain look and then did as he was told. He parted his lips, eyes downcast and fixed on the fruit. His lashes were wet from the pool, dark and thick, cheeks flushed from exertion. 

"Kneel," Hannibal said. It was only a whim, a sudden grasping after a persistent mental image. He almost expected Will to refuse.

Will shifted, nails scratching against his palm. He went down awkwardly to one knee, holding onto Hannibal's chair for balance, and then folded the other leg beneath him as well. He drew a breath like he might have something to say, but he only looked down, head bent so that Hannibal could see nothing of his face. His cock twitched and started to stiffen. 

"Chin up," Hannibal said softly. 

Will obeyed and opened his mouth for the fig. Hannibal fed it to him and watched as he chewed and swallowed. The flush had spread down his neck. 

"Would you like another?" 

"Yeah," Will said. He licked juice from his lips and looked down again. "Please." 

Hannibal brushed his thumb over Will's lips, unable to resist. "What a polite boy."

Will's teeth dented his lower lip. His cock grew thicker. Hannibal fed him another fig and then a piece of melon. "How does it taste?" he asked. 

"Good," Will said. His voice was low and rough. "Sweet." 

Hannibal fed him bits of fruit while he finished his toast. It didn't take long to empty to the plate. "Go and take your shower," he told Will. "I'll make you something more substantial afterward." 

Will rose silently and walked away, cock heavy and swaying between his legs. 

*

The deeper flush Will wore after his shower might only have been from the heat of the water, but Hannibal thought not. "Come over here," he said. 

Will came to stand in front of him, feet planted solidly, hands in loose fists at his sides. He didn't meet Hannibal's gaze. 

"What did I tell you about mastubation, Will?" 

Will swallowed. "That I had to ask you first." 

"So you haven't forgotten. This was deliberate disobedience." 

"Who says I did anything at all?" 

Hannibal breathed in deeply. He could smell soap and damp skin and the lingering musk of ejaculate. " Are you really going to deny it?" 

Will ran his tongue along his lower lip and then shook his head. Hannibal leaned back on the sofa and watched him, the shadows running over his face, the glint of his eyes from under his lashes. "What punishment do you think seems fitting?" Hannibal asked. 

Will shifted his weight as if he wanted to take a step back. "Punishment?" 

"Yes. You chose your reward. It seems only fair that you choose your punishment as well." 

Will pressed his palm hard against the outside of his thigh. His eyes were wide and startled in the second before he dropped his gaze to the floor again. "I -- I don't know." 

"Or perhaps you don't think you deserve any punishment at all? This was a first offense, after all." He suspected it wasn't and saw confirmation in Will's guilty glance. 

"No," Will said. "It's -- it's fair." 

"Would you like some time to think about it?"

Will nodded quickly. 

"All right. You have until this evening. We'll speak of it again after dinner."


	6. Chapter 6

After dinner, Will slipped out of the house to stand in the dark at the edge of the ocean. Hannibal finished cleaning up the kitchen and then settled on the patio to watch him. White foam gleamed as it washed over his bare feet. He stood there for a long time. When he returned to the house, he walked past Hannibal without stopping. "Inside," he said. 

Hannibal followed him in and then followed as he walked into Hannibal's room. Will took the hairbrush from his dresser. He held it out, handle first. 

"A -- spanking," he said, too fast, stumbling over the word. "With this. That's fair, isn't it?"

"Comfort and punishment from the same implement, wielded by the same hand."

"Isn't that usually how it goes?" Will said. 

Hannibal inclined his head in acknowledgement. "Where shall we do it?" 

"Here," Will said. "On the bed." His voice dropped, and his cheeks flushed hot. "Over your lap." 

Hannibal moved to the bed. He sat down and took off his shoes and leaned back against the pillows. He patted his lap. "Come here then." 

Will took an audible breath and climbed onto the bed with him. He knelt, looking down at the bedspread. "I can't believe -- shit."

Hannibal waited. After a second, Will swallowed and started to lay himself out. He stopped as his cock touched Hannibal's thigh, braced on hands and knees, head hung low. He was already half-hard. "You probably want me to get a towel," he said, voice rough. 

"No. I don't." Hannibal set a hand on his lower back and pressed. 

Will sank down with a sigh. He rested his head in his arms. His cock slotted between Hannibal's thighs, and Hannibal moved them close together. Will made a low noise and grabbed at the bedspread. 

"How many?" Hannibal asked. 

Will turned his head to look at him, startled. "I -- I don't know. How much is it going to hurt?" 

"We'll start with ten, and then you will have a better idea of the punishment you've chosen," Hannibal said. 

Will nodded. Every muscle in his back and arms was tense. His flush had spread to his neck, and his cock was fully hard, trapped between Hannibal's thighs. When Hannibal brought the back of the brush down on his ass for the first blow, his whole body jerked. "Sorry," Will muttered. 

Hannibal rubbed a hand down his back and hit him again. He kept the blows fairly light, enough to sting, not enough to bruise. Will's feet flexed and pointed. His fingers twisted in the bedspread, and he sank his nails into the back of his neck. His spine arched hard with every smack that echoed in the quiet room. 

Hannibal counted out loud for him. By the seventh blow, Hannibal could smell his arousal. On the eighth, Will gasped and thrust between his thighs. Hannibal delivered the last two fast and hard. "Ten. Do you want me to continue?"

"Yes," Will said immediately. 

Hannibal ran a hand over his ass. The skin was pink and warm and inviting. He scratched his nails over it and caught the low, helpless whimper in response. "Are you enjoying your punishment that much, Will? You ought to be ashamed." 

Will's cock pulsed, and his breath hitched. A high soft sound escaped him. "Don't. Hannibal, don't, please." 

Hannibal stroked his back, soothing. "All right. Another ten?"

"Please. Yes." 

Will gasped and squirmed under the blows in a way that made Hannibal want to hit him a great deal harder. He restrained himself but, even so, Will's skin grew bright red under the even strokes. His cock was leaking. Hannibal could smell it and feel the damp patch against the inside of his thigh. He stopped at ten, though he would have liked to continue and he was sure Will would have agreed to another set. 

He took a moment to feel that heated skin while Will shifted under his touch and rubbed against his thigh, and then he set a hand on the back of Will's neck. "Enough," he said. "You've paid for your disobedience. Now it's time for something you won't enjoy so much, I think."

Will looked back over his shoulder, cheeks pink, only one eye open and wary. "What?" 

"We need to discuss this." 

Will buried his face in his arms and groaned. "Now? Are you serious?" 

"Don't you think it's time?" Hannibal said. 

"I thought we were doing great," Will muttered. 

"Then surely this is the perfect moment. Before any irreparable mistakes are made." 

"You've still got your hand on my ass." 

He did. He stroked over it, feeling glow of heat coming off the reddened skin. He took a cooling aloe cream from his bedside table and rubbed it in with slow circles. Will tensed briefly and then went completely limp under his touch. Hannibal applied more and kept his other hand steady on Will's back as he settled. 

"Where would you like to do this?" he asked. "Shall I make us some coffee?" 

"I don't want to move." Will paused. "I don't want to -- can't we do it like this?" 

"I'd prefer it if I could see your face."

"And I'd prefer it if you couldn't," Will snapped. 

"There are other ways to arrange that. Some distance--"

"What distance? We could be a thousand miles apart and it wouldn't be enough. There's no such thing as distance for us anymore."

"Perhaps you're right." 

Will took a slow breath. "Okay. So what do you want to talk about?" 

"Your expectations and desires. The forms this should take. Limits. Areas to avoid." 

Will looked back at him, face unreadable and still. "You're serious?"

"I am." 

Will sat back on his knees and rubbed hard at his eyes. He climbed off the bed and caught himself as he swayed, one hand on the headboard. "Okay, I take it back. Distance sounds great. I'm going for a walk." 

"May I come with you?" 

Will gave him an exasperated look. Hannibal gazed back at him with the mildest expression he could manage. Will sighed heavily. "Fine. I'll meet you outside. I need to get some shorts."


	7. Chapter 7

They walked at the edge of the surf, barefoot in the cool sand. Hannibal had rolled up his trousers so that the waves could swirl around his ankles. Will walked beside him, closer to the ocean, water breaking against his calves. He was stooped forward, hands in his pockets. 

"I didn't think you'd care that much," he said finally. 

"About what?" Hannibal asked. 

"What I wanted. You usually think you know what's best for me." 

"Historically, that assumption has led us down some unfortunate paths."

Will glanced at him. "You gutted me. You tried to cut open my skull and eat my brain. And now you're worried you might spank me too hard?" 

"Change is difficult. By the time we reach adulthood, our days are primarily made up of habitual patterns which we continue to repeat throughout our lives, often to the detriment of our health or even our sanity."

"Would you rather have stayed with your routine? Music, psychiatry, killer dinner parties?" 

"No," Hannibal said. "You were right when you told me that you had changed me as much as I changed you. I would no longer be content with that life."

They kept walking. The moon shone between clouds, and the surf thundered as it broke over the reef. "I'm glad we met," Will said. "I keep trying not to be. When I count up all the people who died because of us, because of -- this." He gestured between them. "I should wish Jack had never called you. But I don't." 

"If you have become selfish in your love, can you accept that I might have become more giving?"

Will's steps faltered. He turned his head halfway toward Hannibal and then looked down at the sand again. "Have you?" 

"I should also wish that Jack had never introduced us. I enjoyed my life in Baltimore. If I had never met you, I would have been happy there for many years to come. I have lived a life of perfect freedom, and now I am bound to you in every possible way. I live according to the whims of your morality."

"Objecting to murder isn't a whim, Hannibal."

"Regardless of the reasons, I have given and you have taken. These are unaccustomed roles for both of us."

"So maybe I shouldn't be surprised that you--" Will stopped and turned to face the ocean. "That you're acting like you care about what I want." 

"You might at least consider it a working hypothesis."

Three waves crawled up the beach and receded. Will stared out toward the distant whitecaps. "Don't hurt me," he said. "The spanking is fine. Even harder than that. But not -- nothing serious. No knives, no whips, no -- I don't know. I can't make a list. But I'm tired of being in pain."

"I understand. What did you think of the opera?"

"I hated it. But. It was good." His mouth twisted briefly. "This conversation feels like that, actually. Doing something I don't want to do just because you want me to."

"This conversation is for both of us."

"Difference is, I guess you care, hypothetically, about hurting me. And I'd rather not talk about it even if it means I get hurt." 

"Then I'm afraid you must do it for my sake. Shall I offer you a reward when we're done as I did after the opera?" 

Will turned to him, lips parted, expression oddly vulnerable. "Would you?"

"Of course, Will." Hannibal took his shoulder and turned them back toward home. "Think about what you would like. I only have a few questions." 

Their house glowed in the distance as they retraced their path. Their footprints were gone, lost in the rising tide. Will walked close to him and, after a few minutes, let their hands brush together until Hannibal caught his and held it. "Okay," Will said. "Ask." 

"Do you want this to be sexual?"

"I think it already is. I know you noticed." 

"It's arousing for you. That doesn't necessarily mean you want to have sex with me." 

There was silence as Will adjusted to that idea. "I wanted to get off while you were spanking me," he said in a rush. "I don't know about anything else. I haven't thought about it. I've been trying not to think about it. I figured you'd decide."

"Is there something else?" Hannibal said into the waiting pause that followed. 

"If I say this, you have to not take it too literally." 

Hannibal nodded once. 

"The opera reminded me of working with Jack. Looking at those people, figuring them out, being what they wanted. For you."

"For me. In the same way that you did for Jack?"

"It's not the same. But it's -- it's the same set up. Pressure to do something I know I should do. That someone normal would want to do."

"Did Jack reward you?"

Will pulled his hand away and put it in his pocket. "He didn't brush my hair, if that's what you're asking." 

"You know it's not." 

Will kicked at a ridge of damp sand. "The relief of pressure was a reward. Good job, Will. Get back to the classroom until we need you again." 

"The FBI found you wanting. It denied you the career you desired and then reserved its greatest horrors for you."

"Yeah, thanks. I didn't miss the irony," Will said. 

"It's not the irony I wished to point out but the injustice. You were used, repeatedly, by the same people who had decided you would be of no use to them." 

"I let myself be used," Will said tightly. 

"Your cooperation did not make their behavior acceptable." 

"Now who's suffering from moral whims? What do you care about justice or FBI procedure?" 

"I resent what was done to you," Hannibal said. "I resented it while I participated in it. It was an odd feeling. In retrospect, it is stranger still. It's not something I would willingly reenact with you."

"I told you not to take it literally. The opera was good. In the end."

"Why? The simplicity of effort followed by reward, or a reward earned specifically by behavior you dislike and have been told all your life that you should perform in order to please others?" 

Will stopped walking and looked at him. "That -- yeah. That's why they felt the same. That's what Jack wanted too. It wasn't enough that I got the job done. I had to be okay afterward. So he could sleep at night." 

"Even when you couldn't. A demand for normative social performance. One that I imagine was familiar to you."

"You could say that. Jack was just more insistent about it."

"And so was I." 

"For different reasons." Will paused. "I like your reasons better." 

"Would you be opposed to doing something similar in the future?"

Will shook his head, looking down. "Not if you -- you know how hard it is for me, right?" he said, a little shaky. "I mean, that's the point with you." 

"To push you, yes. Not so that I can disregard you in comfort. That's something you never need to worry about with me." 

"Then it's okay. Any more questions?" 

"May I kiss you?" 

Will looked up at him, blinking. "Do you want to?"

"I wouldn't have asked if I didn't."

Will nodded slowly. He moved a step closer. Hannibal cupped his jaw and leaned in as Will closed his eyes. Will's lips were chapped from sun and wind and salt water. His breath was very quick. His pulse jumped under Hannibal's hand and then gradually slowed. Will put both hands on his chest and let Hannibal take some of his weight. Hannibal licked into his mouth. He felt the flutter of Will's lashes against his skin. 

Will's arm slipped around his neck. Hannibal pulled him closer with a hand at the small of his back and sucked at his lower lip. He wanted to drop his hand lower. He was sure he'd be able to feel the heat of Will's skin through his shorts even now. He resisted, barely. 

Will broke the kiss with a quick breath and rested his forehead on Hannibal's shoulder. "Maybe I should've asked if you want this to be sexual. Or maybe I don't need to ask."

"I would enjoy it, but I don't consider it vital to our relationship."

"What do you consider vital?" Will asked. 

"I hope we will always live together. I wouldn't like to be parted from you now. I enjoy being able to touch you, to cook for you. Everything else is secondary."

Will kissed him again, lingering. When they parted, Hannibal guided him toward the house again. 

As soon as they got inside, Will took his shorts off. He went to put them away in his room and left Hannibal alone for a moment with the dozen streams of thought running through his mind. He took all of them into the kitchen to make tea. Will rejoined him as the water boiled. 

"Are we done?" Will asked. 

"We are. You did very well."

"You don't have to say that."

"But it's true. Have you decided on your reward?" 

"You shouldn't -- I don't need anything." 

"Shouldn't one be rewarded for completing a difficult task?"

"When you're a kid, sure. Then you grow up and realize that life is just difficult tasks one after another."

"And wouldn't it be a more pleasant life if we were rewarded for all of them?" Hannibal closed a hand around his wrist. "Will. Tell me what you want." 

"Can I sleep with you tonight?" 

"Yes. Tonight and any other night you wish."


	8. Chapter 8

Hannibal had forgotten the temptation that Will would pose. Naked and curled on his side under the covers, his back to Hannibal, a warm, broad expanse of skin presented for touch. But that hadn't formed any part of Will's request, and Hannibal had pushed him hard enough tonight. He kept his hands to himself and closed his eyes. 

He woke in the dead hours of the night to the feel of the bed shifting. "Will?" 

"Can't sleep," Will said. "I'm just going to--" He stopped. The scent of his arousal was thick in the air. 

Hannibal waited. Will sat on the edge of the bed, back bowed. 

"I keep thinking about earlier. Can't get it out of my head." He laughed a little. "I've been lying here for an hour trying not to jerk off." 

"You could have woken me."

"Do you really want me waking you up to ask permission to--" Will rubbed at the back of his neck. "For that?"

"Yes. Unless you'd prefer not to, of course. Given how much you enjoyed the consequences." 

"I don't think I can take another spanking right now. I'm still sore." 

"Then you had better ask," Hannibal said, a shade rougher than he would have liked after the reminder of Will's beautifully flushed skin under his hands. 

Will twisted to look at him, expression wavering between determination and uncertain longing. "Can I -- may I come?" 

"You may." Hannibal touched his back as he started to get up. "You may do it here if you want to."

"Oh, God," Will said desperately. "Hannibal."

"Do you want me to tell you what to do?"

"Yes. Yes, please, yes." 

"Lie down. Under the covers."

Will obeyed, scooting over close enough that their shoulders touched. 

"Will you be comfortable on your back or are you too sore?"

"I like it. I like thinking about it. I--"

"What?" 

Will shook his head. "Nothing." 

"Are you sure? I can't give you what you won't ask for."

"Really? Seems like that's your specialty. No," Will said. "Not tonight." 

"All right. Use the cream on the bedside table as lubricant. Make yourself slick."

Will opened the tin and smelled it. "This is the stuff you used on me before." 

"Yes. It's cooling."

Will's hand moved under the covers. He let out a slow breath as he stroked himself. "I liked it. I like the way you touch me. You don't do it that often." 

"I've been wary of going too far."

"Better to drive me nuts waiting for it?" 

Hannibal smiled. "Yes. Much better. Stroke yourself. Tell me how it feels." 

"It feels good," Will said, almost a moan. "So good. Fuck. I was so fucking horny when you were hitting me. I couldn't think about anything except how my dick was right between your thighs. I wished you weren't wearing pants. I would've come. I almost did." 

"I wouldn't have objected," Hannibal said. It was such an understatement that he almost rephrased it as an invitation, but this was not the time. They would have another chance. Many more, if he had his way, and Will seemed content that he should. "Slowly. Circle the head with your thumb." 

Will's exhale shook. He laid his head back against the pillows and let his lips part as he stared up at the ceiling, unseeing. "Don't you want to touch me? You said you enjoyed that."

"I do. Very much. Is that what you want?" 

"I want--" Will turned onto his side, away from Hannibal, and reached back for him. 

Hannibal slid up behind him and held him in place with a hand on his hip. "Like this?"

"Yeah. That's so good," Will sighed. 

"Stroke the shaft now. Quickly." Hannibal watched his arm move under the covers. He let his own hand drift down to the curve of Will's ass where the skin was still warm and sensitive. 

Will gasped at the touch. "Can I--"

"Yes. As soon as you like." 

"Fuck, _fuck_ \--" Will curled in on himself, breath loud, hand working quickly. He went stiff as he came and then turned his face toward the pillow to muffle his groan. A few seconds later, he reached for a handful of tissues. 

Hannibal stayed where he was and didn't move his hand. "Do you think you'll be able to sleep now?" 

"Mm. Yeah. Will you?" Will nudged his hips back against Hannibal's erection. 

Hannibal breathed in against the back of his neck. "Easily. I imagine I will have pleasant dreams. I hope you will too." 

Will didn't answer. The slow rhythm of his breath suggested he was already more than half asleep.


	9. Chapter 9

The day after their talk, Will left the house at dawn and didn't return until sunset. He moved stiffly when he got back, heavy with exhaustion. The sun had burned his neck and shoulders red. He stood with the refrigerator door open and poured himself three glasses of lemonade in a row, chugging them down and chewing on the slivers of lemon. 

When he'd put the pitcher away, he looked at Hannibal. He started to speak, stopped, and tried again. "I took a walk," he said. "I had to think." 

"Have you come to any conclusions?" 

"Why do you love me?" 

Hannibal laid a hand on the cool marble of the counter and wet his lips. "I don't know. I could give you reasons, but love comes unbidden and without logic. You know that, I think." 

"Yeah. I know that." Will's voice was rough. He looked straight into Hannibal's eyes. "I don't want to worry about you hurting me anymore." 

Hannibal wanted so badly to touch him. To kiss him. To lay something bloody at his feet. To speak the words that would unlock his heart. "Then don't," he said. 

"You're not going to tell me to trust you?"

"Did you think I would?" 

Will shook his head. "There's no logic for trust either. It happens or it doesn't."

Hannibal took his elbow and drew him gently out of the kitchen. "Go and take a cool shower. I'll put something on your sunburn afterward." 

*

When Will came back, he was naked, hair damp, carrying the aloe cream from Hannibal's room. Hannibal smoothed it over his back and shoulders. The heat from the sunburn reminded him of the heat of Will's skin after he'd spanked him. He cupped a hand over Will's ass to see if it lingered, but there was nothing. 

Will turned toward him in quarter-profile, eyes cast down. "Do you get to touch me whenever you want now?"

"Do I?"

"Yes," Will said hoarsely. "Yes." 

"Lie down. Rest your head in my lap." 

Hannibal rubbed cream into his cheeks and nose and the tips of his ears. Will's eyes closed. His arm hung off the couch onto the floor, and the other hand lay curled on his chest. One foot was drawn up, sole pressed to his calf. He breathed through his nose, but his lips were parted. 

Hannibal laid a finger across them, and they parted further. Will looked up at him. Hannibal pressed two fingers into his bottom lip. He pushed it tight against Will's teeth and then pulled it gently back. And then he pressed inside. 

Will watched him, mouth slack as Hannibal slid his fingers over his tongue. "Suck," Hannibal told him, and then Will's eyes fluttered closed, and his back arched half an inch off the sofa. His tongue pressed Hannibal's fingers to the roof of his mouth. He sucked, slow and soft, with a rhythm that Hannibal encouraged by pushing deeper and withdrawing with every pull of Will's mouth. 

Will's cock started to thicken. His hand flexed open and pressed over his stomach. His heels dug into the sofa cushions. Hannibal stroked his cheek with his other hand. "Have you ever had a cock in your mouth, Will?" 

Will swallowed and shook his head a very little, motion arrested by Hannibal's touch. 

"Do you think you would enjoy that? You look as if you would." Will only stared at him. Hannibal withdrew his fingers and slid them over Will's lips, leaving a slick shine behind. 

"I don't know," Will said roughly. "But I'd try. If you wanted me to." 

Hannibal stroked his hair back off his forehead and ran his thumb along the scar there. "Is that what you want?"

Will looked up at him and then past him at the ceiling. He ran his tongue over his lower lip. Maybe he could still taste Hannibal's skin. "Does it matter what I want?" 

"It always matters. I might not always be inclined to indulge you, but it always matters. Tell me." 

"I want to get off," Will said. He turned his head away. "I want you to watch." 

"I am more than happy to indulge you in that. Go ahead." 

"Can I--" Will stopped and glanced at him. 

"Do you want my fingers back?" 

Will nodded, flushing pink where he wasn't already sunburned red. "I liked it. Not being to talk. Having you -- in me." 

Hannibal was more than happy to oblige. He pushed his fingers back into Will's mouth and felt the slide of teeth over his knuckles. Will let out a soft sound and gripped his cock, stroking from base to tip. Hannibal withdrew his fingers halfway and thrust in slowly. Will's back arched. He mirrored the motion with his hand, following Hannibal's lead, speeding up as he did. 

Hannibal could feel Will's breath on his hand, Will's head pressed hard against his thigh. Will had his eyes closed tight, and he was stroking himself faster, quickly outpacing the slide of Hannibal's fingers into his mouth, becoming erratic and jerky as he got close. 

Hannibal added another finger and watched how it stretched his lips wider. Will made a muffled, helpless noise and came over his stomach, up his chest, a few drops falling on Hannibal's hand and wrist. 

He let go of his cock and let his hand fall to dangle off the side of the sofa. His eyes stayed closed, and his stomach swelled with his breath. Hannibal left him momentarily and came back with a damp cloth. 

He cleaned Will up and then kept dragging the cloth over his skin, watching the trails of goosebumps it left behind. Will turned his head to press his cheek against Hannibal's thigh. Hannibal gave into temptation and set the cloth aside, fingers tracing the curved scar on Will's stomach. Will breathed in hard. His muscles twitched under the touch. 

"Do you want me to stop?" Hannibal asked. 

"If I wanted you to stop, I'd tell you." 

"What do you want?" 

"Nothing," Will said. "This. Can we just stay like this?" 

"For as long as you like. Is that all?" 

Will blinked his eyes open and focused on him. He was quiet for a long time. "Keep touching me?" he asked softly. 

Hannibal moved on to safer areas, hand sliding over his chest and stroking the curve of his neck. "For as long as you like."


	10. Chapter 10

Will woke early and shuffled out of his room, thinking about a plunge in the ocean to shock himself awake. It was barely dawn. He could probably get away with going in naked if he made it quick. In the hall, he met Hannibal coming out of his own room, sleepy-eyed and messy in a way Will seldom saw him. They both paused. 

Hannibal looked at him, breathed in, and swallowed visibly. He stepped close with clear but undefined intent, and Will gave way. Hannibal pressed his hands to the wall on either side of Will’s head. He lowered his face to Will’s neck. 

Hannibal didn’t touch him, but Will’s skin prickled all over with heat and proximity. His own breath shook as Hannibal breathed him in. His cock stiffened, and of course Hannibal could see that as soon as he pulled back. It only made Will harder. 

“You smell better before your swim,” Hannibal said, low and rough from sleep. “Not of salt or chlorine. Swim in the pool today so that I can watch you.” 

Will just nodded. He could feel his pulse in his tongue and his fingertips, much too fast. It was fear of how much control he had given Hannibal already combined with the desire to give him much, much more. 

Hannibal looked at him and touched one finger to the line of his jaw. “Is there something you want to say?” 

Will was on the verge of offering to come into him room every morning before his swim to let Hannibal smell him. He shook his head quickly. “Nothing.” 

“May I kiss you?” 

“Yes. You — you don’t have to ask.” 

Hannibal leaned in and pressed their mouths together softly, the only point of contact between them. 

Will wanted more. He moved his hands behind Hannibal’s elbows and let them rest there. It was as much of an invitation as he could manage. 

Hannibal took it. He lowered his hands to Will’s waist and squeezed handfuls of his flesh, fingers digging deep until Will’s gasped. Hannibal crowded him against the wall and pinned him there with the weight of his body. His hands wandered over Will’s skin, touch greedy, on his stomach, his thigh, his ass, the curve of his lower back. “Is this what you want?” Hannibal asked. 

“It’s a good tactic,” Will said, just a little breathless. “The questions.” 

Hannibal pressed his face to Will’s neck and breathed in again. His lips moved up the line of one tendon. “Is it?” 

“Just makes me want to go further.” 

“How far would you like to go?” Hannibal murmured. 

Will remembered the feel of his knife slitting open the Dragon’s belly, the warm liquid rush like afterbirth. He remembered Hannibal’s face as they stood on the edge of the cliff. “What about you?” he said. “If you could have anything right now, what would you want?” 

Hannibal went still against him for a handful of seconds. He shook his head, nosing into Will’s hair. “There is nothing about this moment that I would change,” he said.

**Author's Note:**

> You can check out my [original writing here](http://www.eleanorkos.com/) if you're interested.
> 
> [emungere.tumblr.com](http://emungere.tumblr.com)


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